Before the Becoming
by BloodandRosePetals
Summary: Before Murderface was the man he is today, he had a haunting past that rested heavily on his shoulders. Life was filled with emptiness and hatred. He had tried killing himself many times before with fail. However, after he experiences a suicidal vision encounter, he would soon meet the man who would save his life...and maybe save him in return. -Get's better in chapter two:)-
1. Chapter 1

William dabbed a washrag in cold water to clean up the blood from his wrist. After doing so, he returned the rusty razors to their hiding spot.

Grabbing for his bass guitar, he reclined on his bed and played one of his favorite doom metal songs: Scream of the Butterfly by Acid Bath.

Knowing he couldn't carry a tune, he sang the lyrics anyway.

"She smiles like child with flowers in her hair with blood on her hands into the sun she stairs she feels it die I heard her cry...like the scream of the butterfly."

From down the hall, his grandparents started up a viciously fight that happened quite often. William stopped playing for a moment and waited for the abrupt fighting to stop. Then, he started again. When he heard their yelling again, William growled from frustration and shut his bedroom door.

Sitting back down on his bed, he sighed and started playing one more time. However, once again, he was interrupted by his grandmother, Stella.

"What did I say," yelled his grandmother barging in, "about this door being closed?!"

"What did I say about you coming in without knocking?!" Stella gasped deeply.

"William! Don't talk back to me!"

"What'cha gonna do about if I say I did?!"

"This!" With an arm aimed at William's face, Stella backhanded him as hard as she could.

"Are you crazy?!" William finally blurted out.

"You are grounded!"

"You grounded me already! Remember?!"

"Okay, fine. We'll make it TWO months instead!" The hate from William's gut boiled to his brain; the blood rushed to his face from concentrated ire. "I'm leaving this Bible in hear and you are reading it front to back! And when I get back, I want you to tell me every verse you read from beginning to end!" Stella left the room with a slam of the door.

"I thought you said you didn't want the door closed! You bitch..."

That was the last straw. William could no longer take the pain.

With no other option left, he grabbed for the hidden slipknot in the back of his dresser drawer. When he had a hold of it, he spotted an old picture stuck in the edges of the drawer. He pulled it out.

A picture of his parents.

The old picture's edges were soaked with his parents blood from their murder-suicide twenty years ago when William was a baby sitting in his highchair.

William cracked a grin, then frowned. He saw that he was in the picture. Looking at the ugly baby in the old bloody photo, William realized he hated himself even since birth.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose in disappointment in himself.

Dead parents. No religion. Hateful guardians. No job. Failing garage band...

William grabbed the noose and tied it around a hook hanging from the ceiling in his bedroom. After testing its strength, he folded the picture and stuck it in his shirt pocket. Then, he put the rope around his neck and kicked the chair beneath his feet.

* * *

William looked around. He was in pitch blackness. The floor at his feet was as black as everything else. This made it seem like there was no up or down. William felt a very strong sensation of tiredness weigh down his open eyes.

"Hello?" he called in a fearful tone. "Is this hell?"

Nothing happened for awhile.

An orb suddenly appeared overhead. The orb was fully white making the darkness around it seem even darker. A person's face appeared inside the orb, but could not be seen from its long black hair blown in front of its face.

"Who are you?"

The orb suddenly grew from the luminescent white to the color of blood. Then, it pulsated growing bigger. The edges of the orb cracked like broken glass as it grew.

The pulses amplified to Williams feet and up to his chest. With each pulse, he could feel the tiredness slowly getting lighter. He was waking up.

One last pulse into his chest made him realize he hadn't been breathing.

He opened his eyes and took in a huge breath.

"He came to!" hollered the EMT holding the pads to a defibrillator.

"Wait...what?" William was confused. "I'm alive?"

"Yes, you are. You're a very lucky person."

"Dammit!" William angered. "Next time, I'm pulling the trigger..."


	2. Chapter 2

"Son of a bitch..." William said for the millionth time. He hadn't stopped cussing since he had arrived at the hospital.

William had come up with the thought that maybe he was immortal all along, completely unable to ever take his life since nothing had worked in the past when they were sure to have worked on anyone else.

When he was twelve and again when he was thirteen, he swallowed an entire bottle of anti-inflammatory pain killers. Threw it up. When he turned sixteen, he downed an entire bottle of one-eighty proof vodka. Threw it up. He tried a different approach when he turned nineteen of running him and his car into a lake. A fisherman had watched the entire act and saved him in time. Now at the age of twenty, he tried hanging himself. He was sure it would work this time. But the paramedics were called.

"Why does nothing WORK!" William cried. The only thing left that he hadn't tried before was a gun. He had an antique Mauser C96 handgun he kept stowed away at a friends house. He never thought of using it. Not until that day. He just had to escape from the hospital. But that was going to be hard because of his being under heavy supervision.

But William had a plan.

Later that night, his male supervisor stood staring straight at the uncomfortable William leaning up against the door.

"Uuuh..." William tried to fight for word. When he sat up to get out of bed, his supervisor told him sternly, "You can't leave."

William said in a smartass tone, "Calm your ass! I'm just going to the bathroom." As quickly as he could, he slipped inside the bathroom and shut the door behind him. William then proceeded to throw some water on the floor from the running faucet. He could have just laid down pretending he had slipped and fallen. But William wasn't going to take any chances. He walked forward and allowed his foot to slide on the water and he took a tumble.

He then yelled for the supervisor's aide.

"I need some help!" he lied. The supervisor came running in.

"What happened?" he said kneeling down."I slipped! What does it look like? Just go get the nurse!" He fake moaned to make it sound more believable.

Once he was alone, William shot up and tossed down the side of the window some sheets he tied together to make a as a rope. Now, over the edge, he slid down the sheets all the way to the bottom.

The asphalt was sharp against the bottoms of his feet. But he kept running to the end of the street and took a left running as fast as his legs could take him to the house of his band mate, Pierce. The lead singer of William's band.

He knocked violently on his door until he finally answered.

"No," Pierce said immediately and tried to close the door when William put his hand in the way.

"Please, Pierce! Just let me in for five minutes! I just need to borrow some clothes and get my gun back and I'll be out of your hair!"

He spited an irritated growl.

"Fine..." Pierce looked down at what he was wearing. "Um...I almost hate to ask, but why are you wearing...that?" William still had on his hospital gown.

"Oh, this? It's a long story. I tried to kill myself again..."

Pierce's only reply was, "Oh."

Disregarding his emotionless response, William hurried and retrieved his gun from its hiding spot. Shortly after, Pierce handed him some of his father's old clothes he'd found in the back of his closet. It was a worn dark shirt with a gray vest to go over it. The bottoms were some of Pierce's old tripp pants that had been cut at the knee. He had also handed him a pair of his Gothic boots with belts that ran up the sides of each.

"Not bad," complimented William on his choosing.

"Okay, good. Now that you've got your stuff, you can leave now." William stuck the gun in the side holster of his belt and stepped out the door. Before he made it to the sidewalk, Pierce called from the house, "Oh, and since you're killing yourself, I'm kicking you out of the band." Then, he shut the door, leaving William cursing under his breath.

"Asshole..."


	3. Chapter 3

For some peculiar reason, William was having much trouble putting the gun to his head. He sat at the corner of a dark alley with the gun in his lap staring intensely at its features. His thumb rubbed the handle slowly and his index finger grazed along the trigger. But he still had no courage to pull it.

Beside him, a pair of big black boots suddenly appeared standing strong and proud. They lead up to a buff and brutal body fit for a football player. The mans hair was black as night and was so long, it flowed gracefully in the wind. The face was covered by a long shadow, but his emerald green eyes could still be seen through the darkness.

"Uuuuh...Hello?" uttered William uneasily.

"You can't just sit there with a gun in your hand and not pull the trigger." The mans voice was intimidatingly deep and gravely. The voice of a heavy metal singer talented in using a demonic growling tone.

"Who are you to judge me? Just leave me alone!..."

"Coming from someone who seeks attention from suicidal tendencies. And you ask to be left alone?"

"I do not 'seek attention!'" William climbed to his feet. "I want to do it because I do want to die!"

"If that's true, then why don't you?"

"Why don't I?...Why don't I! Fine!" He forced up the courage to put the gun to his head. William gave one last look at the strange man. A gust of wind caught the mans hair and blew it in front of his face.

Something clicked in William's mind.

The next thing he heard was the gun going off involuntarily. His eyes widened at what he saw next.

He was in pitch blackness once again gazing up at the mysterious orb. Inside the orb was the face of the man he had just been talking to.

"You..."

The man in the orb looked upward at something right above him. Before William knew it, the man was crushed beneath something large. The orb grew red again, this time resembling even more like blood as it leaked through the glass cracks around the edges of the orb.

William finally understood what he had to do.

The blackness faded from William's eyes as he came back to reality. He sat straight up and looked at the man who was still standing in front of him, who now had a look of utter shock on his face.

"You were the one I saw..." William muttered.

Just as it was foretold, a billboard right above the man was so old, it had broken off of its rusty supports and was falling right at the mans head.

William hollered, "Get out of the way!" But the man was still in shock. William shot up from the ground and took a leap of faith at the man knocking him just out of the way of impact. William wasn't so lucky.

The man looked up at the ruin that lied in front of him and saw poor William stuck halfway under the rubble.

He wasn't just going to leave him there after the heroic success at saving his life. With a tug of Williams wrists, he dragged him from the wreckage.


	4. Chapter 4

William awoke staring at the black ceiling of some one else's home. He looked up to see a very beautiful man with woman-like facial features who had gorgeous blonde hair that reached almost to his hips sitting in a reclining chair playing a Gibson Explorer electric guitar at lightening speed. He wore boots as well as the man he saw on the street, a black sleeveless T-shirt, and a skull belt.

What talent...What beauty...

The man stopped playing and announced, "Oh, looks! De hero man is ams awake!" And he apparently had a rather Scandinavian or Swedish accent.

"What a god..." William said to himself now very jealous.

Another man walked into the room answering to his call.

"Oh, hey, there!" the man said to William softly, but in a cheerful tone. He was the only person so far he had seen without boots on. Instead, he was wearing a pair of converse. His hair was the reddest red William had ever seen. Because of this, he supposed he was Irish or Irish America. It was worn in long dreadlocks and he had grown them in a fashion to cover his bald spot. Despite the fact of it being a fashionable comb-over, it didn't look bad at all. "So, I heard about the heroic act you did to save Nathan." He had an accent, too. Not Irish as once thought, but definitely a strong North Mideastern accent.

"Uh, Nathan? Who's that?"

"Me." The deep familiar voice came from the doorway. William could now see him in the light. Just as he thought, his face was just as intense looking as the rest of him. The man, known now as Nathan, pointed to the Swedish god in the chair and said,"This is Skwisgaar Skwigelf. The guitarist of my band." Then, pointed over to the guy sitting next to William. "That's Pickles. The drummer." He then stuck out a hand to William in a greeting manner. "I'm Nathan Explosion. The singer." William grabbed it with hidden enthusiasm.

"I'm William Murderface."

"Murderface...Nice name. Fits you perfectly." William cracked a grin at first, then realized what he meant.

"Ah, yes. Murderface..." said Skwisgaar in a spiteful manner. "What kinds of instrument dos yous plays by the way? Yous looks like someones whos plays a mean Grandpa's guitar..." He scoffed.

William answered as if it were routine, "I play a five string Gibson Thunderbird Studio bass guitar with a white pickguard. Fucker..." The both of them now shared a glare. William's dislike toward him grew even more.

"Uh, so, uuuh...Nathan. How you doing?" Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Well, you know, I was hoping you were okay from, you know, the billboard incident earlier and..."

"If you want to ask me something, just ask it."

"Okay, then...You weren't possibly needing a bassist for your band, do ya? I was just wondering because..."

"No," Nathan said a little too quickly.

"Oh...Well, are you sure? Because, you know, I'm pretty good..." Nathan kept to his word. "Ah, come on! Is there something you don't like about me? Do I not have the look? I can grow facial hair if you want! Or is it because my hair is curly and short? Or is it because I have a strong lateral lisp? Because I was dropped as a baby and—well, I was _thrown_ as a baby—and that's not my fault..."

"Come on, Nathan," Pickles pleaded along with him. "Let him in. He did save your life. How bad would it be for a bassist to join anyway?"

"Yeah, come on, Nathan! I mean, I don't even have suicide to fall back on anymore."

"Hm..." Nathan thought back on the shockingly lurid sight of William, after being shot in the head and fallen to the ground, sitting up straight as if nothing had happened. Then, getting up and knocking Nathan out of the way of death and having the billboard crash into him instead. Now he was sitting on Nathan's couch having a conversation. "You're right about that last part."

"Wait, what?" Pickles was confused.

"Turns out he's immortal." Both band members gave suspicious looks. "I actually believe it," he inquired. "A billboard fell on him and he left without a scratch. And he also shot himself in the head and he's still alive. Here..." He tossed William a small metal object. It was the bullet from his Mauser handgun. He felt the side of his head where the bullet had entered. It must have gotten stuck in his skull. "...I figured you might want to keep it as proof."

William looked at the indented bullet for a moment and thought about it. From all the times he tried to kill myself, he now had a souvenir. Proof now that nothing could ever take him down.

"I don't give thanks to people too much...but...thank you. For saving my life, Murderface." William, still holding a strong gaze at the bullet, said softly and more sincere than he'd ever been, "Thanks for saving mine."


End file.
